Regrets
by Nardhwen-LadyShi
Summary: When Grand Enchanter Fiona receives an invitation of refuge from the King of Ferelden, she is forced to face the biggest regret of her past. But seeing her son again was not the only painful experience. (Oneshot set ten years after my DAO: The Fifth Blight story). EDITED. R&R


Regrets

The streets of Denerim were bustling with activity as the people walked to and from the market. Children played happily near their homes, laughing merrily. It was difficult to imagine the city torn to pieces after nearly falling during the Fifth Blight. The cheerful faces of the people replaced any traces of despair they might have felt then. Seeing Ferelden's recovery was going well was a relief.

The thought brought a small smile to Fiona's lips as she walked, her face mostly hidden by the hood of her cloak. The smile then faded as she remembered why she was in the city. Why she had made such a long and perilous journey from Orlais to Ferelden. For she knew peace in the land wouldn't last long thanks to the war currently being waged between mages and templars, a war that cost her and many others greatly.

She looked up towards the royal palace in the distance. Her destination. And soon another feeling settled upon her chest. Like a boulder on her chest, heavy with guilt for what now lay in the past, yet laced with a sliver of eagerness. Her nerves threatened to get the better of her, but she restrained them the best she could, instead showing confidence in her eyes as she approached the gates.

One of the guards stepped towards her, a stern look upon his youthful features. "State your business."

She reached up to her hood, pulling it down over her head to reveal her short, white hair. "I am former Grand Enchanter Fiona… I am here at the King's request."

The guard nodded. "Yes. We were told you were coming. Please follow me."

Fiona was then led through the courtyard to the palace doors, and as they entered her nerves gripped at her chest once more. She was to see the king, but it was not the prospect of seeing Ferelden's monarch that put her on edge. She recalled the bundle she held before she abandoned him, a baby left without his mother due to the cruel twists of fate. She swallowed the pain as she followed the guard through the large hall.

xxxxxxx

"The Chantry will not look kindly upon your willingness to help apostates, Your Highness." Came the voice of the Revered Mother of Denerim as she stood before him, a scowl upon her wrinkled features.

"They're my people, just as you are. I won't abandon them," Alistair firmly told her, meeting her gaze with a stern look of his own from his seat upon the throne. His longer hair and bearded chin were neatly groomed, while his still youthful features now carried the lines ten years as king would cause.

She shook her head. "But going as far as using your soldiers to protect them… your meddling will only make the faithfull question your motivations."

"And what's your alternative?" He asked, his tone carrying an edge of irritation. "Should I let the templars slaughter women and children like animals just because they're mages?"

"I understand it is a difficult situation. But this is a Chantry matter, Sire," the Revered Mother insisted. "It should be left to us to handle."

His eyes hardened. "The Chantry failed to keep the peace. Now battles between mages and templars are raging in the Hinterlands. My people happen to be in the middle of it. I'd say that makes this my problem too."

Her glare faltered. "But… Your Majesty…"

"Are we done talking about this? Nothing you say will change my mind."

She sighed in defeat and bowed before him. "I have spoken my piece, Your Majesty. I only hope this does not bring dire consequences later."

He let a corner of his lips go up. "If the Chantry gets angry at me over this then so be it. It wouldn't be the first time I get scolded by the mothers."

She shook her head and let out a breath. "I suppose not..."

The doors to the throne room then opened. "Your Highness," said the guard as he stepped in. He brought his arms up to his chest in a bow.

"What is it Erek?" Alistair asked irritably.

The guard glanced towards the Revered Mother, seeing the tension in her posture. She was obviously unhappy. He then returned his eyes to the king, whose mood seemed just as poor. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Your uh… guest is here, Sire."

"Ah good…" Alistair said, reaching back to scratch his head.

"I should take my leave then," the Revered Mother said, bowing to him. "Good day to you, Your Highness."

"And to you," He replied with a nod of his head. He then watched her walk away as the guard opened the door for her.

Alistair let out a breath, relieved to see her leave the room. "Erek. Show our guest in, please."

Moments later Fiona entered the throne room, her kind eyes meeting his from below as she stopped a distance from him. Her heart raced with both anxiety and happiness at finally seeing him, finding herself struggling to keep her emotions in check. _"Maker he looks so much like Maric..."_

"It is… an honor to be here, Your Highness. Thank you for reaching out to us," she said as she bowed her head to him.

"I'm glad you made it. I hope you didn't have too much trouble on the way here," he said with a sympathetic look.

She chuckled, giving him a gentle smile. "Do not worry. I am not as frail as I appear."

"Heh… so I see," he replied, her response reminding him of Wynne. How he missed their old mother-figure. It was a shame she only lived a few more years before her body gave out on her.

"I couldn't help but overhear some of the conversation. Was that the Revered Mother of Denerim who just walked out?" She asked.

He smiled hopelessly. "The Chantry isn't happy I'm helping the mages. If she knew who you are, she would be spitting out hot coals."

"She's right… in a way. You risk much helping us, Sire," she uttered with a troubled look.

"My wife and I risked it all to save this land. I won't let hatred rule over it," he replied vehemently. "I'm sure the rest of Ferelden will see reason someday. Which brings me to why I invited you here. I heard the templars are hunting you and your people."

"They are… it has become difficult to keep the others safe. We have been traveling constantly because of this. Always on the run…" She said tiredly, her hands clasping her skirt. "The children are the ones I worry about the most. But we knew it would be difficult from the start."

"Things that are worthwhile are often not easy to obtain," he told her somberly, his tone carrying the weight of past experiences. "That's why I want to offer refuge… so long as you're willing to avoid engaging the templars and seek peace."

Fiona cast remorseful eyes upon him, her heart twisting. To think the baby she abandoned long ago would turn out to be such a kind and just man. She had once told Maric she wanted the boy away from the throne and its trappings. But in the end it seemed he became the king Ferelden needed.

"We never wanted this to escalate into a war when we rebelled against the Chantry. We only wished for our freedom," Fiona said quietly, her wise eyes upon him. "So I accept your terms, Your Highness. I only want to keep my mages safe."

He smiled lightly at her. "Then you're welcome to stay in Redcliffe with Ferelden's free mages. You can help lead them and keep them grounded throughout this mess."

She bowed her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty. This means a great deal to us."

A door at the side of the throne room then suddenly opened, drawing their attention away from their conversation.

"Papa, papa!" A little girl dressed in a white dress chanted as she ran into the room and up the steps to the throne.

"Princess!" An old man called after her, barely able to keep up with the child as he walked in with a cane. "Maker's breath…"

"Hey!" Alistair greeted as he picked her up and sat her on his leg. "What are you doing making Uncle Eamon chase after you? Shouldn't you be studying?"

Fiona could only stare, her eyes softening at the sight. She was a beautiful little girl, with large blue eyes and long, dark blond hair. _"That's my… my grandchild?"_

"Yes… sorry…" She muttered bashfully and then smiled innocently under his stare. "B-but Mommy sent this," she said, presenting him with a piece of paper.

A mixture of sadness and relief crossed the king's features as he carefully took the letter from her small hand. "Oh…" He breathed.

"I apologize for disrupting the audience with your guest, Your Majesty," Eamon said with a sigh. "A raven just arrived carrying that letter. I couldn't keep her in the study after she found who it was from."

"It's fine…" Alistair uttered, gently stroking the child's hair. "Can you return to the study with Eamon, my dear? I still have to finish talks with the nice lady over there."

The child gave him a disappointed look, pouting her rosy lips. "But… we always read Mommy's letters together."

"And we will. Just be a little patient," he said as he lifted her up and set her on her feet. "I'll keep the letter for now. Wait for me and we'll read it as soon as I'm done here."

"Promise?" She asked, casting pleading eyes upon him.

He chuckled, petting her head. "Yes. I promise. Now go."

"Yes, Papa." She gave him a toothy grin and ran back to the door, waving to Fiona in passing. Eamon gently took her hand and then led her out of the throne room, closing the door behind them.

Alistair then turned an apologetic smile to the mage. "Sorry about that. She's as high spirited as her Mother."

"It's… quite all right, Sire," she replied softly, smiling lightly. "You have a beautiful daughter. It shames me I don't know her name..."

He rose from his seat and began descending the steps to her. "Her name's Eleanor. We call her Ellie for short."

"I see… it's a beautiful name," she said and then a subtle frown furrowed her brow. "Is the Queen… traveling?"

"She is…" He uttered and then smiled weakly. "Anyway… It's been decided then. Your mages can live in Redcliffe. The sun will set soon and it's dangerous to travel at night. You're welcome to spend the night in the castle."

She nodded. "Understood… thank you, Your Highness."

"You're welcome." He then turned to the nearest soldier standing guard in the room. "Garen, please show the Grand Enchanter to one of the guest rooms and have a servant tend to her."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Garen replied with his fists to his chest.

Alistair gave her one last smile. "Rest well."

She bowed her head to him once more. "You as well, Your Highness."

With that he made his way towards the side of the room through which his daughter had left, holding the letter tightly in his hand.

She watched him go with a concerned look, seeing just how quickly his mood changed. She had heard the queen had been absent for a while, but she wasn't aware for how long. Her motherly instincts rang in her ears, telling her to comfort him. She closed her hands into fists. If only she hadn't been so foolish all those years ago. If only she could have remained with him and watched him grow.

"This way, please," the guard said, gesturing to the opposite direction.

xxxxxxx

Hours later Fiona stepped to the window in her room and gazed up to the moon, her eyes filled with nostalgia as she recalled her past once more. She had done much, from being a Grey Warden to becoming Grand Enchanter. To think she was now leading the mages to freedom from the Chantry's clutches. There were many things she felt proud of, but there was much she regretted in her life.

"Maric… if only you could see what a good man your son has become," she murmured to herself, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

She released a soft breath and gazed down towards the garden. A puzzled look then dawned upon her when her eyes landed on a small body lying on the grass by one of the rose bushes.

She frowned. "That's…"

Worried, she turned around and headed for the door. She hurriedly walked through the hall and to the gate leading to the gardens. When she arrived, she quietly approached the girl.

"Child…?" She called as she knelt next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"She's all right. Only sleeping…"

Fiona's head snapped in his direction as Alistair walked towards them. "Why is she out here like this?" She quietly asked, watching as he stepped closer and took a knee by the child.

Alistair reached down to the slumbering girl and gently hoisted her up in his arms. "My wife loved roses. She even used to bathe in them. So when we receive a letter from her, our daughter comes to the garden at night… to this same rose bush," He replied quietly and carefully stood, trying not to wake the girl.

"Their scent remind her of her. It comforts her," Fiona said with gentle eyes as she too rose to her feet.

"Yes…" He then chuckled lightly. "She knows I'll come get her each time too. I should probably tell her to stop, but I can't bring myself to do it."

Fiona wanted to be angry at the queen for possibly abandoning them, but she found that would be hypocritical of her. "If you don't mind me asking, Your Highness… Where is the Queen? How long has she been gone?"

"Three years…" He replied in almost a whisper, his eyes then shifting from his daughter to the old mage. For some reason he felt he wanted to tell her how he felt. How frustrated, sad and angry he was at not having Everil by his side. It was odd… but perhaps he did see much of Wynne in her.

"That long…" she uttered.

He let out a breath. "You're aware she and I were… are… Grey Wardens, right?"

She nodded, her heart twisting with the knowledge of how much he sacrificed and suffers because of it. "I had heard…"

"Grey Wardens don't live long, you see... so Everil is searching for a cure against the taint… to extend our lifespan."

Her eyes widened. She knew the taint could be cured, she had been cured herself. But she couldn't remember how it happened and there was no record of it ever happening. Still the Queen was searching and had searched for three years, a long time to be apart from those she loved.

"I know she's doing this for us… but it kills me not to know where she is," He continued with downcast eyes. "She wouldn't even tell me where she went. I guess she thinks I'd go looking for her and bring her back… which is probably true at this point."

"I see…" she said with a frown. "You miss her…"

"She sends letters , but we still feel her absence…" He told her, his heart heavy in his chest. "I think of her all the time…"

"You love her so…"

"I do…" he uttered, casting his eyes upon the sleeping child in his arms, his hand coming up to gently brush her bangs from her face. "She and Ellie are everything to me."

Her eyes softened and she couldn't help but place a hand on his arm in an effort to comfort him. "She's the Hero of Ferelden. I'm sure she'll be successful and return to you soon."

He nodded at her, her touch somehow reassuring. "I know she will," he said with renewed confidence. "And we'll have many more years together after that."

Fiona's smile broadened. She couldn't hold him or be the mother anymore, but at the very least she could be here now. She only hoped his decision to help the mages wouldn't bring more problems to his life. And that she would one day be able to tell him her most painful secret.

"Papa…" Eleanor whimpered in her sleep, snuggling closer to his chest.

Fiona gazed tenderly at the child, wanting to hold her as he was.

"I should probably go tuck her in before she catches a cold," Alistair said, hopelessly shaking his head. "I swear... she has me wrapped around her little finger."

"May I suggest something for her, Your Highness?" She asked, unsure with her words.

He nodded. "Sure."

"Perhaps if you cut fresh roses for her room or leave a bottle of rose oil by her bed, she will be able to sleep with her Mother's scent nearby."

Alistair's brows shot up. "Hey… Why didn't I think of that?"

She chuckled lightly. "I am an old woman. Such things come easily to me."

"Well thank you. I appreciate the advice," he said with a smile. "You know... for some reason I felt comfortable talking with you like this... kind of like talking to a mother. I hope we can do it again someday."

"So do I, Your Majesty..." She said, trying to hide the sadness his words caused.

He gave her a nod. "Good night, Grand Enchanter."

"Good night…" she uttered. Fiona then watched him walk away, her heart churning painfully as she stared at his retreating back. "Son…"

It would probably be the last time she would be able to talk to him as she did. And she knew she wouldn't have the opportunity to get to know her grandchild and watch her grow. Still she found herself fortunate for having seen them. Now she had to focus on her present, on protecting her people and on seeking an end to the war.


End file.
